


heavy weather

by unyielding



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Break Up, angsty kenhina, everyone's in college, follows canon until the end of season 3, hinata is doing his best, im sorry for writing this, it really depends on your angst tolerance tbh, kenma is stubborn, more like 5 chapters of hurt and 1 chapter of comfort, writing this for myself tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25898539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unyielding/pseuds/unyielding
Summary: It was on rainy days that Kenma thought of Hinata the most.It reminded him of cold mornings spent in Hinata’s bedroom in Miyagi, of soft auburn hair between his fingertips, warm breaths ghosting along the side of his neck, hot hands sneaking under his sweater, calloused fingers tracing the length of his spine-- memories he left behind on the night that he chose to let Hinata go.Until Hinata comes back into his life almost two years later, refusing to be let go.---AKA: I, the author, wondered what it must feel like for someone in love with Hinata to have to see him with Kageyama. And that someone ended up being Kenma.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma
Comments: 20
Kudos: 57





	1. on days like these

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by that one tumblr post i saw years ago about how most kenhina fics are so fluffy-- ever since, it's been my personal mission to write an angsty kenhina fic. and so here it is.

Kenma woke to the sound of water pouring from the rain gutter above his balcony, splattering on the railing on its way to the ground, four stories below.

It was raining again. It always seemed to be, these days. 

Kenma sighed, blinking at the muted light that streamed into his apartment, watching as stray leaves were carried by the wind, hitting the glass door of the balcony with soft thuds. Through the wall, he heard shuffling-- his neighbor Suzuki-san must be getting ready to leave for work.

Suzuki-san was a salaryman, five or six years older than Kenma at most. Tall, but not as tall as Kuroo. A little round in his middle, probably from sitting at a desk all day every day. He never took days off, smiled whenever he ran into Kenma in the hallway, and every now and then he would knock on Kenma’s door at night to share a portion of his curry for dinner. He left at eight in the morning, every single day. He had done so for the past year that Kenma had lived next door. Kenma was almost always already awake before he heard the dull click of Suzuki-san’s apartment door closing-- it was Kenma’s cue to get out of bed and to prepare for his day, if he hadn’t already. 

It took Kenma ten minutes to shower, a half hour to make himself breakfast and to eat, and a little extra time left to play a video game or two before leaving for his 9:00am class. This was all routine, and it was comforting.

Kenma knew he should be getting up now, according to schedule, but he couldn’t seem to find the strength to. It was hard. It was always harder when it was raining.

Instead, he closed his eyes, and listened closely-- the song of the rain engulfed him, a familiar sound that reminded him of warm feelings, despite the shiver that ran down his spine when he shifted and the blanket fell off of his shoulder, just a little, letting the cold air wrap around him before he was prepared for it to.

It was on rainy days that Kenma thought of Hinata the most— which was ironic, because anyone who had ever met Hinata would say that he is the sun personified. Still, the sound of the rain, the smell of it in the air-- it was always the same, and if Kenma closed his eyes long enough, everything in the room changed. 

On days like these, it was easiest to remember.

All of a sudden there were copies of Volleyball Monthly on top of a messy desk, cold and half empty mugs of green tea on the table, raindrops trickling down the frosted glass of Hinata’s bedroom window. All of a sudden, Kenma felt it-- soft auburn hair between his fingertips, warm breaths ghosting along the side of his neck, Hinata’s hot hands sneaking under his sweater, calloused fingers tracing his spine. 

All of a sudden, Kenma saw it-- the freckles across Shouyou’s nose, the lean muscle of his arms. It was always warm under Shouyou’s dark green bed covers, because Shouyou felt as warm as he looked. Always buzzing with energy, always moving, always loud-- but when they were like this, in the safety of the four walls of Shouyou’s bedroom, he was silent. He spoke only in whispers, so soft that Kenma wondered why it felt sharp to remember.

And then, his alarm started ringing. 8:00am. He opened his eyes, and he was back in his apartment in Tokyo-- darker and colder than ever. Memories of Shouyou’s bedroom in Miyagi were pushed to the back of his mind, kept safe, in a corner where he could reach for them only when he needed to. Only when he missed Hinata the most.

Kenma got out of bed and started getting ready to go to his classes.

* * *

They were in the library, the first time that Kenma heard about it. 

It was raining outside, the way that it does in Tokyo in late Spring. Normally, he would expect to hear the soft hum of the air conditioner, as well as the scratching of ballpoint pens against paper, pages of books being turned, and the familiar noise that these chairs make when they’re lightly dragged away from tables and back again. But that day, all of those noises that Kenma associated with the library were masked by the shower of the heavy rain outside, pounding against the roof above them like it wants to be let inside. 

That, and the sound of Kuroo tapping away on his phone.

“Can’t you put that thing on silent?” Kenma whispered, looking up from the module that he was reading to glare at Kuroo.

“I like the sound.” Kuroo said, smirking when he glanced at Kenma.

“I don’t.” Kenma replied stoically, eyes flickering down at the worksheet that Kuroo seemed to have abandoned, in favor of texting his girlfriend. “And we’re at the library.”

They were sitting towards the back, out of view from the library staff. The place was less crowded than usual. Next to them, there was a group of boys, Engineering students, Kenma guessed, pouring over thick textbooks and drafting plates. A few tables ahead, Kenma could spot Saki and Mitsuri, who he knew from his classes. They said hi to him as he and Kuroo passed, and they talked briefly about the chapter of the module that Kenma was attempting to read now, and the paper they had to write about it. Kuroo winked at the girls as they left, which left them both swooning-- Kenma was already dreading having to tell them that Kuroo had a girlfriend, so no, he could not give either of them his friend’s number.

A few more tables were filled towards the front, but besides that, the place was not as busy as it tended to get around the middle and towards the end of the semester. It wasn’t quite exam season yet, so Kenma had expected as much. It was Kuroo that had asked if they could hang out here in the first place, saying he had laboratory reports that he needed to complete, but five minutes after they sat down and brought out all the materials that they planned on working on, Kuroo had lost interest and brought out his phone.

“No one’s going to be bothered by the sound that my phone is making when the rain outside is literally the  _ only  _ thing they can hear.”

Kenma stared blankly at his best friend, and realized that there’s no way he was winning this argument.

“Fine,” He sighed, shaking his head, and putting his attention back on the paragraph that he was reading. In the corner of his eye, he could see Kuroo’s smirk becoming impossibly wider--Kenma could almost see the sharp edges of his teeth now. There was no winning with Kuroo-- there never was when they were kids, and nothing has changed now, years and years later.

Kenma heard someone sigh, and then a chair was pushed back, from the table with the Engineering students next to them. They must have decided to take a break, or something. It seemed like they had already been there for hours before Kenma and Kuroo had arrived. The students started talking quietly, but Kenma paid little attention, trying to focus on his module.

“... Catch the game last week? It was a close one.”

“... Yes, Bokuto was on fire as usual!” 

Kenma turned his head a bit at that, and Kuroo raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look up from his phone.

“Of course he was, he was playing against Kiryuu! They’ve been rivals since they were in high school.”

“And did you hear? I have a friend on the team, he says a couple of high schoolers were watching courtside.” One of the boys said, a little quieter. But Kenma has always had sharp hearing. “Those monsters from Miyagi? The little one with the orange hair, and that tall, scary one?”

Kenma felt it, all of a sudden-- his heart started pounding, because he knew  _ exactly  _ who they were talking about. He saw Kuroo’s fingers twitching. Slowly, Kuroo put his phone down, folding his hands together. Kenma knew Kuroo was watching him. Kuroo seemed prepared for any sort of reaction, but all Kenma did was sit, silent as ever, drowning in the sound of his heart beating loudly inside his chest.

“I’ve heard of them. Didn’t they win high school nationals last year?” 

“Who  _ hasn’t  _ heard of them? They’re predicted to win this year, too. That team is  _ filled  _ with monsters.”

“Why were they at the game last week? Is the coach trying to recruit them?”

“That's what my friend says. They were in the city for some practice matches, and as soon as the coach heard, he invited them to the game. Apparently they’re good friends with Bokuto-san, too.”

“They’re both being recruited?”

“Yeah,” one of the guys said with a scoff. “It’d be stupid to tear them apart. Any coach with half a brain would know that.”

Kenma was struck by a sharp pain in his chest-- because he knew that, too. The beats of his heart were getting a little too loud, they were starting to drown out all the other noises around him-- all of a sudden, it became too hard to breathe. He stood abruptly—  _ outside _ , he needed to go outside. He needed to hear something louder than the deafening pound of blood rushing to his head. He needed to hear the rain. 

“We should go. You’re not even writing that report like you said you would.” Kenma said, gathering his belongings. One by one, he put them back into his bag-- his laptop, a notebook, the two textbooks, his pen case-- his hands shook, just a little, but the act was routine, practiced. He knew the exact order that they were supposed to go into the bag, and the exact way to place them. Next to him, Kuroo seemed to have gotten the message. He stood, putting his laboratory manual and a single black pen back in his backpack, having not taken anything else out anyway.

Kenma heard the sound of his rubber sneakers grazing against the carpeted floor. He started walking, and he heard Kuroo following after him.

Kenma breathed sharply, and he could almost swear that the pain in his chest felt just a little bit heavier. They scanned their IDs near the front desk, and then, as soon as the heavy and humid air hit him, and the sound of fat raindrops falling against concrete flooded his ears, he turned abruptly to face Kuroo. “You knew.”

Kuroo nodded, almost solemnly, and answered so uncharacteristically quietly, but Kenma heard it perfectly fine, despite the rain. “Bokuto told me.”

“When?”

Kuroo didn’t answer for a few seconds, pushing his tongue against the front of his teeth. He seemed to be thinking. Kenma could see his fingers twitching. Kenma knew that movement. It was impulse. Kenma knew that Kuroo wanted to reach into his pocket for the pack of cigarettes in there, but they were still inside the campus, and he was not allowed to smoke. Kuroo inhaled, then, turning his head down to look Kenma in the eye, “A few months ago.”

“That long?” 

“The coach has been talking to him about it since last semester. He knows that Fukurodani has practice matches with Karasuno-- and that Hinata has always mentioned in interviews that he idolizes Bokuto.” Kuroo said, eyes trained carefully on Kenma’s face. Kenma didn’t shy away from his scrutiny anymore-- they had known each other for years, there was no hiding any sort of reaction from him at this point. Kenma blinked, eyes blank, and Kuroo seemed frustrated because he shook his head. “Look, Kenma. I would have told you.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because you made everyone you know promise not to say Hinata’s name in front of you ever again!” Kuroo said, eyes wide, lips pulled back-- and Kenma had a full view of them now, his sharp, perfect white canines. Kuroo clicked his tongue irritably. Kenma knew that all he wanted at that moment was to smoke. 

“I did.” Kenma responded calmly, reaching into his bag for his umbrella. He looked away from Kuroo for a moment, digging into the bottom of his bag. He felt Kuroo’s gaze on him, still. “But this wouldn’t have counted and you know it.” 

“I was worried you’d do something stupid, like drop out of school.” Kuroo said exasperatedly, rolling his eyes as Kenma brought the umbrella out, unfolding it and walking straight into the rain and to the direction of the car park. Kuroo groaned, reaching behind him as well, grunting as he pulled his own umbrella out and begrudgingly followed his smaller friend into the rain.

It was loud, and wet. The umbrella could only help so much-- he could already feel the cold rain water seeping into his toes, through his socks and past the fabric of his sneakers. Kenma felt calmer, though. His heart rate slowed, and he felt his grip on the umbrella’s handle loosen, just a little. 

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t.” Kuroo admitted. He sighed heavily, just as they reached his car. Kenma walked around to the other side, waiting for Kuroo to unlock it. Kuroo fished through his pocket for his keys. As soon as he heard the click of the doors being unlocked, Kenma slid into the car, shaking out his wet umbrella before putting it on the floor by his feet. Kurooo did the same, slotting his key into the ignition, but he did not start the car. Instead, he reached into his pocket again, and pulled a cigarette out. He rolled down his window, just a little bit, and then lit the cigarette. This technically should not have been allowed either, since they were still on campus, but that didn’t stop most people-- and it certainly would not stop Kuroo, who had picked up the habit in his first year at the university.

_ Kenma scrunched his nose the first time he visited Kuroo’s apartment and found it smelling heavily of nicotine.  _

_ “I don’t do sports anymore, so nothing’s stopping me now.” Kuroo shrugged when Kenma had asked how and why he had started smoking. He was grinning, guiltless, as he slid a cup of tea over to Kenma, who was still glaring at the cigarette butts in the ashtray on Kuroo’s living room table. _

_ “Shouldn’t, I don’t know, your health and wellbeing stop you?” Kenma said, and felt that that wasn’t enough, so he added; “From destroying your lungs, I mean.” _

_ Kuroo did not seem bothered. He only shrugged again, pulling a packet out from under the pillow on his bed. Kenma was concerned about him keeping his cigarettes there, but decided not to say so. “If it isn’t smoking, something else would be destroying my lungs anyway.” _

_ Kuroo knew that this was a shitty excuse. Kenma saw it in the emptiness in his eyes as he said it. He decided not to point that out. Instead, for the rest of the night, they talk about the team, about Lev still being bad at receiving, about coach Nekomata considering retiring after a recent hip injury. They talk about Kuroo’s life at university, how he has time to date girls now that he’s no longer busy babysitting a volleyball team, how his parents want him to be a doctor, and how he learned that TBA is not the name of a lecture hall in the university. _

_ Kenma wondered, later, as he laid awake in a futon on the wooden floor of Kuroos’s apartment, if Kuroo started smoking because he no longer had volleyball to occupy his time. Still, he did not ask, because that is not the kind of question you ask someone who has filled a void in his heart with something destructive. _

_ So Kenma closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep, ignoring the bitter smell of cigarette smoke clinging to the walls of Kuroo’s apartment. _

Kenma hated the smell, but had never told Kuroo so. Kuroo knew, anyway. Kuroo always knew.

“You still could have told me.” Kenma said quietly, fingers twitching in his lap.

“I could have.” Kuroo agrees, blowing smoke into the cramped car. Kenma held his breath, though he knew it was pointless. He was going to have to breathe in at some point. Kuroo tipped his head to the side, glancing at Kenma from the corner of his eye, “What difference does it make?”

Kenma did not answer. There was no answer. 

* * *

Hinata Shouyou is a crier.

He cried when he lost his first volleyball game to Kageyama in Middle School. He cried when they lost to Aoba Josai in his first tournament with Karasuno. He cried when they won against Shiratorizawa. He cried when they made it to Nationals for the first time. He cried when they lost their final game. He cried when Daichi, Suga, Asahi, and Kiyoko graduated. He cried when won at Nationals during his second year of High School.

Kenma is sure that he’s cried plenty of times in between. Shouyou is the kind of boy who sometimes cries when his food is too delicious.

But the night Kenma broke up with him, Shouyou did not cry. 

_ They sat on the concrete steps behind one of Fukurodani Academy’s gyms, next to the hill that Karasuno sprinted up ten times in the same afternoon. It was late at night, when they weren’t even supposed to be there-- Shouyou kept looking over his shoulder to see if Tanaka or Nishinoya were nearby. The cicadas were singing. Kenma remembers the feeling of the wet grass grazing his ankles, the cold wind swiping at his cheeks.  _

_ It had rained all afternoon. The damp grass kept sticking to the sides of Kenma’s shoes. Shouyou was bent down, hands cupped as he tried to catch the little grasshoppers that shimmered when the faint light coming from the inside gym hit them. _

_ “I think we should break up.” Kenma said, scratching his ankle where he thought something must have bitten him. _

_ “What?” Shouyou raised his head so fast it must have given him a rush, and Kenma made a conscious effort to not look him in the eye. Kenma could hear the sound of Shouyou swallowing, and his voice shook a little when he started laughing.  _

_ Kenma had heard Shouyou laugh many, many times. He knew every breath and every guffaw by heart-- this was nothing like his real laugh. Still, Shouyou pushed out another half-hearted chuckle that could not hide his nervousness. “Are you kidding?” _

_ Kenma shook his head, hair getting in his eyes. “No.” _

_ “Why?” Shouyou asked, and Kenma blinked. He hadn’t thought that far ahead-- he didn’t think he’d have to make up a reason. “Look at me, Kenma. Tell me why.” _

_ “I’m just tired.” Kenma said, standing up. His damned ankle was still itchy. _

_ “Kenma. Where are you going?” Shouyou asked, standing abruptly, but Kenma was already walking away. “We are not done talking!” _

_ Kenma sighed, but didn’t turn back— it would hurt too much. It already hurt too much. Every step away from Shouyou felt like something inside him was being torn apart, inchy by painful inch. _

_ Water droplets trickled down to the top of his head. His ankle still itched. Shouyou was yelling now, demanding for Kenma to stay. _

_ Kenma kept walking.  _

_ That night before bed, he went to check the itchy part of his ankle. He had scratched it until the skin broke and blood was seeping through his socks, but there was no insect bite. _

_ The itch persisted for weeks following that night. _

* * *

Kenma didn’t expect to see him for another few months. The new school year didn’t start until Spring, so he figured he’d have plenty of time before he’d have to think about the kind of face he should show Shouyou.

He didn’t think he’d see him only a month after that conversation with Kuroo at the library.

It was on another wet day, with burnt orange leaves scattered on the ground, drenched from the light showers of rain that had kept coming and going all day. Kenma was leaving the student union building, Mitsuri walking next to him as they both tapped their IDs onto the sensor on their way out-- they had a paper to do together, and had just finished meeting to divide the work.

Mitsuri was talking about the new Animal Crossing game that came out, complaining about how she couldn’t play because they were swamped with exams and papers. Kenma nodded in good nature and shrugged, saying something about exam season being over soon so it’s nothing to worry about.

Mitsuri sighed, but proceeded to say goodbye. Kenma nodded, waving at her as she pulled out her umbrella and smiled, walking in the direction of the social sciences department. 

Kenma opened his own umbrella and headed in the opposite direction, leaving the building entirely and making his way to the bus stop outside the gate. The walk to the gate was short. He passed by the oval, where the track and field team was busy with their afternoon practice, the dark green and yellow raincoats of their school colors bobbing along in Kenma’s vision as they continued their drills despite the weather. It reminded Kenma of high school, and of his many days of barely getting through their rigorous training-- and it made him glad that those days were over.

He turned away from the track and field team, and as soon as he did his eyes landed on a bus across the parking lot, with what seemed to be high schoolers unloading it, looking around themselves nervously as they stepped onto the tarmac. They looked like first years, knees shaking, eyes wide and bright, carrying what Kenma recognized as sports bags. He almost smiled, but as more of them stepped out of the bus, he noticed that they were all wearing black jerseys-- and when one of them turned around to peer at the oval where the track and field team was still running, Kenma felt his heart sink as he saw the unmistakable name written across the back of their jerseys:  _ Karasuno High School. _

He should have started walking faster then, but he found that all of a sudden his feet were as heavy as rocks. His heart stopped, his mouth ran dry, and his own voice rang in his head, telling himself to tear his eyes away and leave-- but it all stopped as soon as he saw that all too familiar head of bright orange hair, bouncing excitedly as he jumped out of the bus, nearly slipping on the wet concrete as he did so.

A hand shot out of the bus, then caught Shouyou by the collar of his jersey, steadying him before he could stumble. The figure was revealed slowly to Kenma from where he was standing, though the sinking feeling in his stomach told him he knew exactly who it was before he even saw them. An arm, a shoulder, and then finally, dark hair and sharp eyes with the signature stern look on his face. Kageyama frowned and held Shouyou steadily by the shoulders, and though Kenma could not hear them he knew he was saying something along the lines of “Watch where you’re going, dumbass!”

Shouyou turned, scratching the back of his neck, yelling something back at Kageyama. The annoyance in his eyes didn’t last very long, though. It eventually melted into a smile, the bright one that Kenma knew perhaps a little too well, and Kageyama smiled back, his hand coming up again to touch Shouyou’s shoulder.

Only then did Kenma find the strength to turn away. It occurred to him suddenly that they could see him at any moment-- so he lowered his umbrella, and hoped that they wouldn’t recognize him with his hair short and all the bleached parts gone, and continued to walk towards the bus stop.   


And like the night that he broke up with Shouyou, he forced himself not to look back.

* * *

It was months later, after winter had passed and the snow had melted, when spring had come and brought the rain along with it, that Kenma saw Shouyou again.

Through many weeks of studying for exams, sitting through long traffic-ridden car rides in Kuroo’s car, and having the semi-weekly dinner and drinks with Kuroo, Bokuto, and Akaashi, the thought of seeing Shouyou again actually slipped his mind. Life went on. He came home with Kuroo for Christmas break, spending most of that time holed up in his old bedroom playing video games-- although, he did allow Kuroo to drag him to the current Nekoma volleyball team’s practices, and he was even a little excited to attend their practice games. 

Bokuto and Akaashi had tagged along for the practice match with Fukorodani. Kuroo and Bokuto argued the whole time, mocking each other for every lost point, while Akaashi and Kenma clapped and watched quietly, chatting absently about the setters’ strategies and how odd it was to be watching from the sidelines instead of standing on the court.

And so the break passed, and before Kenma realized it, he was back at the library, walking down from the registrar’s office upstairs after having gotten his ID renewed for the coming semester. It had started raining as soon as he got inside, and it was only then that he realized he had left his umbrella at home.

Kenma pulled out his phone. He hurriedly scrolled through his contact list to find Kuroo’s name, holding his phone to his ear and waiting for him to pick up.

“What’s up?” Kuroo said after two rings, and Kenma heard the sound of doors opening and closing in rapid succession. Kuroo had mentioned this morning that he would be at the biological sciences department to discuss his application to be a research assistant. 

“I went to the registration office to get my ID card renewed. It started raining pretty hard and I forgot to bring an umbrella.” Kenma said, reaching the last step down and pausing to look at the downpour that looked like it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. “Are you nearby? Is there any chance you can come pick me up?”

“Sure, no problem.” Kuroo replied, but clicked his tongue after he paused for a moment. “You might have to wait a bit, though. I got here like fifteen minutes ago and the SA says Satou-sensei went out to get lunch.”

“Sure. I’ll hang out at the library for a bit.”

“K. I’ll text you when I’m done talking to Satou-sensei.”

Kuroo ended the call before Kenma could, and Kenma reached into his wallet for his freshly renewed ID as he stepped towards the large double doors to the library.

“Kenma.” 

It was a voice that he could pick out from a crowd of thousands, a voice that made his heart shake to this day, a voice that he only ever heard in his dreams these days. Kenma felt it again, the sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach, as he turned and met Shouyou’s wide, honest eyes.

“Sho--Hinata.”

“Hi.” Shouyou said, looking about as shaken as Kenma felt. Kenma watched his Adam's apple bob up and down, the hand on the strap of his bag tightening as he stepped forward, slowly, but stopped a few feet away from Kenma. Which was good, really. It was for the best. Kenma wouldn’t know how to react otherwise. If Shouyou was any closer…

Kenma swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed the thought away.

“Hello.” Kenma said, and he wondered if his voice was as squeaky as it sounded in his head. He looked away immediately, only seconds after his eyes met Shouyou’s-- it was too hard, too dangerous. Seeing Shouyou up close was different from catching a glimpse of him from across a parking lot.

Shouyou had grown taller since Kenma had last seen him during that final training camp over a year ago, though not by much. He stood at eye level with Kenma now, no longer needing to look up. His shoulders were broader and packed with denser muscle, and Kenma wondered if that had added more power to his spikes these days. Shouyou’s hair was longer, curling past his ears, some of it getting in his eyes-- and, to Kenma’s surprise, he had gotten his ears pierced.

But it was like nothing had changed. The freckles spattered across his nose and cheeks, his warm brown eyes, and his earnest— albeit nervous, smile. Kenma felt something pushing at his chest, a year’s worth of longing built up inside him ready to burst like a dam. 

But he held it in, kept those feelings inside him, clenching his fist just so he had something to do with his hand— just so he was sure he wouldn’t be reaching for the boy he had missed so much standing right in front of him.

“You-- you cut your hair.” Shouyou said, tilting his head to the side to catch Kenma’s gaze where it was locked onto a poster of the basketball team behind him. “I’ve seen it in pictures, but… it’s weird to see it in person-- but not bad weird! Good, different, kind of weird.”

There was a short, clipped silence, then-- before Kenma realized he was supposed to say something.

“Yeah. I thought it would be better to have it short. I was getting kind of tired of the bleached parts.” Kenma replied, his fingers absently coming up to touch his hair, which was now much shorter than it was in high school, the sides of it cut cleanly, the top swept back in the way that he found easy to deal with in the mornings.

“It looks good.” Shouyou said, almost softly, before clearing his throat-- “I mean. Yeah. It looks good. It, um… never mind.” 

There was another silence. Kenma was always a quiet person, Shouyou did most of the talking in their relationship. This was different, though, Kenma thought. There was a wall between them now, and Kenma reminded himself that it was necessary.

“Anyway, um, I overheard your conversation. Are you waiting for someone to pick you up?” Shouyou asked, shuffling from one foot to another.

“Yeah. Kuroo. He’s over at the Bio Sci department.” 

“Right. Well, if you want… I could give you a ride.” Shouyou said, and Kenma blinked. Shouyou cleared his throat, a new nervous habit of his, it seemed, and looked up at the ceiling above them. “I mean, I took my car here. I just need to drop off some documents at the admin office upstairs, then we can go…”

“No, but thank you.” Kenma said, taking a step back and finding himself looking down at his feet again. “I’ll just wait for Kuroo.”

Shouyou seemed to consider his next move. It was quiet again, and Kenma was just about to end the conversation and make up something about needing to borrow a book at the library anyway, when he heard the telling shuffle of Shouyou’s shoes against the concrete floor, entering Kenma’s line of sight, just a few inches away from his own sneakers. Shouyou had stepped closer.

“Look. I tried to tell you I’d be coming to your university, but you had my number blocked.” Shouyou’s voice was firm, and Kenma felt forced to look him in the eye as he said this. 

Kenma swallowed.

“Yes.”

Kenma’s phone buzzed in his hand, and he knew it was a text from Kuroo. He did not check it, though. His fingers around his phone tightened, and he hoped Shouyou didn’t notice his hand shaking.

“I asked Lev to tell you, but he said you asked everyone to never mention me to you again.” Shouyou continued, his voice more forceful— and Kenma felt it deep inside him, as sharp and piercing as it was on the day they broke up.

“Yes.” Kenma repeated, and that single word felt like he had sent a sword straight into his own chest.

Shouyou inhaled, a harsh and sharp sound, and his voice was quiet when he continued, almost as if he was afraid to ask, “What did I do, Kenma? Why are you doing this?”

The dam in his chest holding all those feelings in collapsed, and Kenma looked away, staring at the pouring rain. He took one step forward when Shouyou said, “Don’t. Don’t walk away like you did that night, or I swear to God, Kenma, I will drag you kicking and screaming back to me. Just tell me what I did wrong. I have to know.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Hinata.” Kenma said, feet rooted to the ground now. In the distance, he spotted Kuroo’s bright red umbrella— but he was at least a couple minutes away, and Kenma didn’t know how long he could handle breaking his own heart.

“Then why are you angry?!” Shouyou demanded, stepping even closer.

“I’m not angry.” And that was not a lie, but Kenma couldn’t bring himself to look Hinata in the eye when he said it, anyway. Kuroo was only a few meters away, but Kenma couldn’t wait any longer. He turned to Shouyou, using every last bit of energy left in him to keep from collapsing on the spot, and tried to smile. He hoped it looked better than it felt. “It was good seeing you again, Hinata.”

“Why do you keep calling me Hinata?” Shouyou’s voice broke, and Kenma recognized it immediately. It was how he sounded when he was about to cry.

Kenma paused, just as Kuroo’s eyes grew wide at the sight of Karasuno’s former middle blocker. Kenma turned his head, just slightly-- he still couldn’t bring himself to look at Shouyou, not when he was sure there would be tears in his eyes. Kenma inhaled, and he hoped Shouyou wouldn’t be able to hear how he was shaking. “I’ll see you around.” 

Kenma forced himself to take the steps forward, jerking Kuroo’s arm along with him when he hesitated, dragging him into the rain. 

The sound of it almost drowned the sound of Shouyou’s voice calling his name.

Almost.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heh. this was also a product of me thinking, "i wonder what it's like to be in love with hinata and to know that he and kageyama are perfect together?" lol


	2. just a volleyball game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo drags Kenma to the first game of the season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello it's been a while!! apologies for the late upload, to those who have been waiting. and thank you to those who left comments, i really appreciate it <3
> 
> also! i'm on twitter @softestjoons if for any reason u want to reach me! :3

Several weeks passed, and Kenma managed to avoid any more run-ins with Shouyou.

It was surprisingly easy, although Kenma supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. It was a big campus, and Shouyou was in a whole other department. Not to mention the fact that Kenma deliberately avoided being anywhere near the school gym, much less watching the volleyball team’s practices like he used to-- and was now noticeably absent from the regular weekly drinking sessions with Kuroo, Bokuto and Akaashi, who for obvious reasons opted not to ask why. 

Still, after Kenma had missed their drinking nights for two weeks in a row, Akaashi seemed to be worried. He appeared in the hallway outside of one of Kenma’s afternoon classes, covering his concern with a friendly smile on his face as he asked Kenma to take a walk with him. 

He steered clear from asking any questions about a certain red haired middle blocker, but was clearly there to see how Kenma was doing. Kenma could find no reason to lie to Akaashi, who seemed to have no ulterior motives anyway, so he had simply told him he had met Shouyou a few weeks prior. Akaashi’s eyes, sharp as ever, widened in surprise. Kuroo must not have mentioned it. 

Akaashi seemed to consider his response for a moment, blinking at a crack on the concrete below their feet. “How did it go?”

“It was a disaster.” Kenma said, shoving his hands into his pockets. It was a rare clear day, but the wind was cold, cutting into his cheeks. Akaashi bought him coffee from a nearby vending machine, and they had decided to sit down on one of the benches near the humanities department while they waited for Akaashi’s next class. Kenma bit the inside of his cheek, Shouyou’s nervous smile flashing through his mind. “He thinks the breakup was his fault.”

Akaashi nodded, an unreadable expression on his face as he shrugged, “Well. You can’t blame him. You never did explain why you broke up with him.”

“I don’t know how I would.” Kenma replied, hands curling around the warm metal can. “How do you tell someone you broke up with them because they’re clearly meant to be with someone else?”

“Ideally, you don’t break up with someone for that reason in the first place.” Akaashi said, a small smile on his face, shrugging as if he hadn’t just criticized Kenma’s most heartbreaking major life decision. “I mean, you could have talked to him about how you felt first.”

“He would have tried to convince me that I was wrong about him and Kageyama.”

“Maybe he would have been right.”

“No. He wouldn’t have been.” Kenma said, sipping his coffee quietly as Akaashi continued to stare at him. “I just… I did what was best. For his sake.”

“Mhmm.” Akaashi nodded, patting his thighs as he stood up. He adjusted the strap of his bag, fingers tight, looking down at his old rival setter, now just his friend. “But is it really the best for him? You saw how he looked. He hasn’t been right since you broke up with him. Anyone who knows him can tell.”

Akaashi paused. For a few moments, Kenma stared at the lip of the can of coffee in his hand, wondering what he was supposed to say or think. He was sure he did the right thing. He was sure that night he broke up with him, and he had been sure about it still, for months and months after, though he missed Shouyou deeply and painfully, though he spent the rest of his days and nights itching for the comfort that Shouyou’s hands on his face had always brought him. He was sure about it now.

“And what about what’s best for you?” Akaashi’s voice brought Kenma out of his train of thought.

Kenma looked up, and Akaashi was still smiling. Kenma never could read Akaashi as well as he could other people-- perhaps it was his clear eyes and his mild disposition. They were the same age, but it always seemed to Kenma that he was older than all of them, and certainly wiser. When they spoke that day, Kenma knew he was just worried, and wanted to see how he was doing. But something in Akaashi’s eyes and his kind reassurance gave him the nagging feeling that he knew more than he was letting off.

In hindsight, Kenma should have known that Akaashi was up to something.

At the moment though, Kenma merely nodded, mulling over Akaashi’s questions. 

“My class is about to start.” Akaashi said, glancing at the students filing into the building behind them. He was smiling kindly, still, and Kenma felt oddly comforted by it. He nodded, getting up as well. He was about to go home before Akaashi had approached him. Akaashi nodded, humming. “I’m sure this will all sort itself out, Kenma. Maybe in ways even you haven’t thought of yet.”

Kenma raised his eyebrows at that, but said nothing.

“Oh, and please come to the next drinking night. Bokuto-san won’t stop complaining about missing you.” Akaashi said, and Kenma found himself chuckling at the thought of a tipsy Bokuto whining about his absence. “It’s on Saturday night, after the game. I’m sure Kuroo-san has told you.”

“Okay. I’ll be there.” Kenma promised.

“Alright. I’ll see you then.” Akaashi said, and with that, he turned and followed the crowds of people heading to their classes.

Kenma stood there for a while, watching Akaashi disappear into the crowd, still clutching the lukewarm aluminum can in his hand. Eventually, though, he turned and made his way to his bus stop.

He thought about the conversation throughout the rest of his ride home.

* * *

“I said I’d go drinking with you, I didn’t say I’d go to the game.”

A week after that conversation with Akaashi, Kenma found himself sitting in the front seat of Kuroo’s car, unwittingly tricked into coming to the season’s first volleyball game-- starring none other than his ex-boyfriend, and his ex-boyfriend’s soulmate. It was Hinata and Kageyama’s debut into university volleyball, and the last thing Kenma wanted was to be there.

Kuroo rolled his eyes, flicking his turn signal on as the car rolled to a slow stop at an intersection. Pedestrians crossed the road in front of them, an array of people in business suits, school uniforms, and dressed in what was typical of Tokyo street fashion. The traffic light blinked green, and Kuroo turned right, sighing as Kenma continued to pout in the driver’s seat

“Stop being a baby, Kenma. It’s just a volleyball game.” Kuroo said, and Kenma narrowed his eyes at him over the top of his Nintendo Switch.

Kuroo had asked Kenma if he wanted to go and have lunch, and Kenma had agreed, thinking nothing of it. They usually had lunch together on weekends anyway, whenever Kuroo’s girlfriend was busy. By the time Kuroo had locked the car doors and zoomed away from Kenma’s apartment, he flashed a pair of tickets to the day’s volleyball game at Kenma-- and at that point it was too late to escape.

“That my ex is playing in.” Kenma replied blankly, not amused by the coy grin Kuroo was sending him. “With the guy that I’m 100% sure he’s actually meant to be with.”

“What’s the big deal?” Kuroo scoffed, crossing his arms. “You sit there, talk some trash when he inevitably fubs up a serve or a receive, maybe you’ll release some of that tension. It’ll at least help you get used to seeing him around school more.”

“I don’t plan on seeing him at school at all, so I’d rather not get used to it, thanks.”

“You used to love watching him play. You don’t even get excited about volleyball unless he’s involved.” Kuroo’s fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel as they stopped at another intersection. They were just a few minutes away from the arena now. He turned to look at Kenma, who was still glaring at the screen of the console in his hands. “So what changed?” 

“Nothing changed.” Kenma said, staring blankly at the loading screen of his game. “I just realized that Hinata plays best when he’s with Kageyama.”

Kuroo did not reply. They spent the rest of the car ride in resolute silence.

* * *

The day Shouyou confessed to him was a clear and perfect memory, stored in the warmest and safest corner of his mind.

If Kenma was being honest, he didn’t like to think about it too often. It was a distant memory now, a part of him that he could no longer reach. Thinking about it hurt, although thinking about Shouyou in general was always painful these days.

It was the day of Shouyou’s 16th birthday.

_ Kenma thought of him all day. _

_ The moment he woke up and checked the time on his phone, he saw the date, blinking at the numbers on the screen. It was Shouyou’s birthday. He thought of calling him then, but he remembered Hinata often woke up early for his 30-minute bike ride over a mountain to get over school. He thought of calling him during morning practice, but figured Shouyou would be busy. Then Kenma had classes, and by the time lunch rolled around, Lev grabbed him on his way to a quieter place to call Shouyou and begged him to look over his Math homework-- rambling on about how he was going to have to take supplementary classes if he turned in another failed worksheet. _

_ It was not until later on in the day, during free practice, that Kenma managed to slip out of the gym. Tora, their newly appointed captain, raised his eyebrow as Kenma excused himself, but Kenma only waved his hand dismissively, muttering something about having to make a call. _

_ Kenma sat outside the gym, sitting precariously against a concrete ledge that ran along the wall. He had his phone pressed against his ear, listening to the dull beeps as he waited for Shouyou to pick up. _

_ After seven consecutive rings without a response, Kenma was about to cancel the call— Shouyou must have left his phone in the changing room or something, Kenma figured. He had resigned to just try again later that night, when Shouyou picked up, out of breath but just as bright as ever. _

_ “Kenma? What’s up?” Shouyou said, huffing just slightly. Kenma felt his chest tighten at the sound of his friend’s voice. “Sorry, I almost missed your call. We were running laps.” _

_ “Don’t worry about it.” Kenma said, unable to keep himself from smiling at the thought of Shouyou scrambling to answer his phone when he saw that it was him calling. “I can call later, if you’re busy right now--” _

_ “No!” Shouyou said, almost too quickly. “I mean, no, it’s okay. We’re taking a break, anyway. So, you know, it’s okay.” _

_ Kenma smiled, nodding though he knew Shouyou couldn’t see it. “Okay.” _

_ There was shuffling on the other end of the line, Shouyou must have been walking. It always was difficult for him to sit still. Kenma remembered suddenly why he called. “Oh! I almost forgot, I called to say happy birthday.” _

_ “Thank you.” Shouyou laughed softly, and Kenma found himself chuckling along. “I’m surprised you remember.” _

_ If Kenma was a more honest person, he would have said something like,  _ I always remember things about you--  _ but, he wasn’t. At the moment, all he found himself saying was, “Sure I do. You called me on my birthday last year.” _

_ “Right! I remember, you were having dinner with your family when I called.” Shouyou must have been grinning. Kenma could hear it in his voice. _

_ “Yeah, I was.” Kenma confirmed. He paused, then, almost afraid to ask-- “So what are your plans today?” _

Please don’t say you have plans with Kageyama,  _ Kenma thought, his fist clenching as he waited for Shouyou to answer. _

_ “Well,” Shouyou paused, humming thoughtfully. “I’ll buy the team a round of pork buns, I guess. The first years are pretty excited about it. And I guess I’ll have dinner at home.” _

_ “Oh.” Kenma said, and he almost sighed in relief. “Okay. Um. That’s all I had to say, really. I guess I’ll see you at the practice match next month.” _

_ “Kenma, wait.”  _

_ And so Kenma waited, shoulders tensed, almost nervous about what Shouyou was going to say next.  _

_ “Um. Did you get me anything for my birthday?” Shouyou asked. _

_ Kenma faltered at that, finding himself at a loss for words. He didn’t get Shouyou anything. Although he thought that Shouyou must have known that was a given. Shouyou lived at least 5 hours away. He had thought of doing so, of course, but going out of his way to buy and send a present to him-- it would have betrayed his feelings, that he had spent the past year trying so desperately to hide. _

_ “No. Is there anything you wanted?” Kenma asked hesitantly.  _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “Okay.” Kenma said, standing up now. His legs had started to feel numb. “Tell me. I’ll get it for you.” _

_ Shouyou paused again, and the silence that followed was tense. Kenma wondered if he wanted something he could only get in Tokyo. It was unlike Shouyou to ask for a gift. _

_ There was no way for Kenma to anticipate what Shouyou would say next. _

_ “I want you to go out with me.” _

_ Kenma felt something drop into the pit of his stomach. He could feel his heart thrumming so loudly in his chest that he could hear the sound of it in his head. Had he just imagined that? Surely, Shouyou hadn’t just said that. Surely, he must be having one of those daydreams again. _

_ And yet, he wasn’t. _

_ “Kenma… You know I like you, right?”  _

_ “I… You… What?”  _

_ “I said I like you.” Shouyou repeated, though they both knew Kenma heard it perfectly well. He sounded extremely flustered, and Kenma knew he was probably blushing profusely at having to repeat himself saying something like that. “I’ve, um, liked you... For a while now… Maybe since we first met, but I’m not really sure, I don’t know much about this stuff… I was going to wait until the practice games to tell you in person, but-- I guess now felt like a good time to say it.” _

_ Kenma couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. He stood there for a few long moments, the sound of volleyball shoes squeaking against the wooden floors of the gym and of balls hitting the ground and bouncing against walls echoing inside his head.  _ Shouyou likes me?

_ “Kenma. Say something.” Shouyou prompted, bringing Kenma out of his daze. “I-- If you don’t like me back, just say it, idiot! I only said it because Yachi said it was worth a shot and maybe you might like me too, it’s not like we’ll stop being friends or anything, I should have waited until the practice match, just reject me if you’re going to reject me--” _

_ It occured to Kenma that that was the only time Shouyou had ever called him an idiot, or anything to that effect. The thought of that made the situation more amusing than anything. _

_ “Shouyou.” _

_ “What?” Shouyou said irritably, and Kenma laughed. It all seemed funny to him, all of a sudden. “Are you seriously laughing? You can’t just laugh at me after I confess to you  _ on my birthday _ \--” _

_ “Shouyou. I like you too.” _

_ “At least have the courtesy to-- what?” Shouyou stuttered, “You what?” _

_ “I like you too.” Kenma repeated, unable to stop himself from smiling. He felt an odd, but not unwelcome, warmth spreading through his chest, his cheeks, and all the way to the tips of his fingers. _

_ “Say it again.” _

_ “I like you.” _

_ “Again.” _

_ “No.” Kenma said, though it was only to tease Shouyou. He would happily say it over and over, if Shouyou really wanted him to. _

_ “Come on. It’s my birthday.” Shouyou pleaded, and again Kenma could tell he must have been grinning. The thought of it made Kenma shy, all of a sudden. He hid his smile behind his arm, covering his face, though he knew no one was watching him, anyway. _

_ “I like you.” Kenma said again, biting his lip now. He never knew he could smile this hard.  _

_ “Okay. So you’re saying yes to going out with me?” Shouyou must have been bouncing on his feet, because Kenma could hear the tell tale shuffle of his sneakers and the lightness of his breaths. _

_ “I suppose…”  _

_ “Kenma!”  _

_ “Yes!” Kenma laughed, “Yes, I’ll go out with you.”  _

_ “Okay.” Shouyou replied, with a breathy laugh. “I think I gotta go. Ennoshita-san will come looking if I don’t go back soon.” _

_ “Okay.” Kenma said, still unable to keep himself from grinning like an idiot. “Okay. Um. I’ll call you later, I guess.” _

_ “Okay! I get home at around nine, so I guess you can call me at eleven? Is that okay?” Shouyou responded brightly, pausing for a moment. “Um, Kenma?” _

_ “Hm?” _

_ “Could you say it again one more time?” _

_ Kenma laughed, but he did say it again anyway. And Shouyou asked him to say it twelve more times when Kenma called him later that night. _

* * *

_ The smell of air salonpas. _ It was a familiar scent, though Kenma only learned to recognize it as the smell of sports tournaments when Shouyou had pointed it out. He smelled it in the air now, as he sat in the bleachers, just one among many sports fans waiting for the game to start. 

When their university’s team had entered, Bokuto at the lead conducting the crowd chanting their school cheer, Kuroo had elbowed Kenma as Shouyou entered their line of sight, sheepishly following his team, visibly nervous even from where Kenma was sitting several rows of seats above the court, sporting the number 22. Kageyama, whose uniform had the number 21 printed in green on the back of it, was right next to him, an arm on his shoulder, a frown on his face as he bent his neck a little to speak lower and closer to Shouyou, a source of comfort no doubt in this unfamiliar court with an unfamiliar team.

Kenma got up to leave as soon as he caught sight of them, but Kuroo clicked his tongue and yanked him back into his seat.

It didn’t get any better when the game started. In fact, it only got worse.

Shouyou and Kageyama played even better than when Kenma had last seen them. In what Kenma could only chalk up as a bold play meant to throw off their opponents, their coach had started their rotation with Kageyama serving first. The entire stadium went silent as he stood at the edge of the court. The commentator had noted that this would be his first serve in his university sports career. 

And he did not disappoint.

Kageyama sent service ace after service ace, and when their opponents had finally broken his streak, he slipped easily into his role as a setter, fitting into the team like he had worked with them for years. Sharper than ever, he saw through a miniscule crack in the opponent’s block, and with a flawless setup, sent the ball to Bokuto when the opponent’s attention was captured by Shouyou zipping past their eyes and jumping, as always, like he expected the ball to appear right in front of him. The perfect decoy.

When the ball slammed into the ground, receivers scrambling across the floor and missing it by mere milliseconds, the crowd went wild-- even Kuroo sitting next to Kenma got on his feet and joined in on the chorus of “NICE-KILL-BO-KU-TO!”

“And that, my friends, is how you make a debut!” The announcer said into the mic, no doubt just as fired up as everyone else in the stadium. “Miyagi’s monster duo displays their flawless partnership through this signature setup by the resident genius setter Kageyama Tobio. Of course, this setup only works with a spiker that jumps with complete faith that the ball will go to them-- a role perfectly filled by the sprightly number 22, Hinata Shouyou. With Kageyama’s consecutive service aces and the team making use of this move so early in the season-- on their debut match no less!-- it is clear that Coach Iwakura is sending a message: keep your eyes on this duo!”

Kenma stayed in his seat, growing more and more tired as the game progressed. Plays faded into each other, and soon Kenma had blurred out the score board, the commentator, the crowd, and even Kuroo sitting next to him and elbowing him every time their friends scored points. Kenma’s eyes could only stay trained on Shouyou.

Now shifted into the wing spiker position, he seemed to still be adjusting to the new team. His receives were more polished now, improved drastically since his first year at Karasuno. He knew better where he was supposed to be and how to move his body to send the ball to Kageyama. Speed was always Shouyou’s weapon, and so receiving now came almost naturally to him. Kenma thought absently that he would make a decent libero, though the mere suggestion of not being able to spike likely would have made Shouyou throw a fit. 

Still, this was a new team. Shouyou was a little awkward, unsure about calling balls, apologizing to his senpai a couple of times for missing receives because he hesitated too long. Each time, Bokuto would laugh and clap him on the shoulder, while Kageyama would shake his head and mutter something. Kenma would bet anything that he was calling Hinata a dumbass.

His spikes, as Kenma had guessed, were more powerful now. Though he was still nowhere near Bokuto or Ushijima in terms of force, he was more confident about powering through blocks now. Kenma knew this was due to his increase in muscle mass, but also through the practiced ease of working with Kageyama for several years now.

“-- yet again Miyagi’s monster duo shows us their perfect partnership!” The announcer’s voice boomed across the stadium, the words  _ perfect partnership _ ringing in Kenma’s ears over and over. “Hinata Shouyou has scored his twelfth point of the day, ending the 3rd set with their trademark quick and winning their debut match!”

The crowd roared as the scoreboard reflected the winning point, the dejected opponents’ shoulders slumping simultaneously as they comforted each other on the other side of the net. Bokuto turned to face the ecstatic audience, joining in on the school cheer and beaming as the rest of the team gathered around him to celebrate.

A little off to the side, though, amidst all the commotion, was all Kenma could focus on. 

Right at the edge of the court, Shouyou ran straight towards Kageyama, jumping right into his waiting arms. They swayed a little, but Kageyama seemed used to it, frowning even as Shouyou grinned up at him, likely chastising his partner. Shouyou stepped back, wide eyes surveying the scene around them, and Kageyama looked fondly at him. A rare gentle smile tugged at the corners of the setter’s mouth as Shouyou pointed at the scoreboard and reenacted that last spike that he hit. Kageyama ruffled the top of Shouyou’s hair just as their team had encircled them, pulling their new members into a group hug.

When Kenma got up to leave this time, Kuroo didn’t stop him.

* * *

The walk to the izakaya did not take too long, and Kenma spent most of it thinking, ignoring the clear concern in Kuroo’s eyes.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have dragged you there.” Kuroo said under his breath as they reached the wide open doors, entering the fray of multiple loud noises and distinct smells. 

On a Saturday night, this izakaya was busy. It was a modest establishment, away from the main streets and in the area of the city less frequented by tourists. It was a place Kuroo had brought Kenma to on one of his first weeks in university, Bokuto’s favorite spot after a long and tiring game. The low tables were filled with friends in casual clothes, bottles of sake and beer everywhere Kenma looked. Servers were coming in and out of the kitchen, steaming plates of food stacked on their arms. Kenma’s eyes wandered from one end of the room to another, while Kuroo still stared at him, eyes narrowed.

“Stop that. It’s fine. You were right. I have to learn to get used to seeing that. I can’t just not watch Bokuto-san’s games forever.” Kenma quipped, as he looked for an open table. It was a half lie. He wasn’t fine, and he’d rather not have been at the game at all, but he didn’t want Kuroo to feel too bad about it either. 

“Still. I thought it would be good for you, but maybe it was too soon.” Kuroo sighed, and then tugged the sleeve of Kenma’s shirt as he seemed to spot something from across the izakaya. “Over there.”

Kenma looked to where Kuroo was pointing, finding a pair of familiar blonde heads sitting across from each other. He felt a slight panic as Kuroo headed for the table, his hand still on Kenma’s sleeve, pulling him along. 

Kenma remembered vaguely that besides Hinata and Kageyama, Tsukishima and Yachi had also chosen to attend a university in Tokyo. Bokuto must have invited them. Kenma looked around, suddenly, concerned that Bokuto had also invited the exact people that Kenma would rather avoid seeing.

Tsukishima looked up as Kuroo and Kenma arrived, looking as disinterested as ever as he nodded at them in greeting. He gestured for them to sit down. Yachi, looking already a little tipsy, grinned, patted the seat next to her. Kuroo sat without another thought, but Kenma was a little more hesitant, which Tsukishima noticed immediately.

“Hinata and Kageyama aren’t coming, so just sit down and have a drink, Kozume-san.” Tsukishima said, sipping his beer stoically.

“Ah! That’s right. Hinata is on medication right now, so he’s not allowed to drink.” Yachi said, a blush on her cheeks as she chewed through a piece of yakitori.

“Meds? What for?” Kuroo asked Yachi, tapping a passing server on the shoulder and ordering rice bowls for himself and Kenma, complaining about how neither of them have eaten dinner yet.

“He injured his shoulder last year.” Tsukki replied, golden eyes flickering over to Kenma, who sat frozen, having not known about the injury. “Right before we went to nationals, too. It was a pain in the ass. Kageyama was  _ pissed _ .”

“He was in top condition at nationals, though. I couldn’t even tell.” Kuroo said, frowning as he likely thought back to Karasuno’s games last year-- that Kenma, for obvious reasons, had opted out of attending. “He played really well today, too. I don’t think the press has ever talked about the injury, either.”

“We tried really hard to keep it under wraps.” Yachi quipped, a lot less subtle when she looked at Kenma, who still stared blankly at the table. “We knew opponent teams would take advantage of it if they knew. Coach Ukai was so paranoid about it.”

“It was his left shoulder, anyway.” Tsukishima added, “It doesn’t really affect his spikes. He’s a lot more careful about jumping around now, though. If he falls and lands on his arm wrong, he’s done for.” 

“And there’s nothing he hates more than not being able to play.” Kuroo commented, with an almost fond smile.

“Hinata needs to be really careful now, if he wants to keep playing for a long time.” Yachi nodded, still nibbling on some chicken. She sighed, then, clearly worried for her friend. “He has to ice his shoulder now after every game. I used to help him with it. I hope his new team is taking care of it."

“Their coach went through so much trouble to recruit them, so I’m sure he’s taking care of Hinata’s injury well.” Tsukki said, uncharacteristically reassuring. His eyes slid over to glance at Kenma again, “And he has Kageyama.”

Kenma blinked at that, feeling both assured and painfully, bitterly jealous.  _ Of course. Kageyama would take good care of Hinata. There was no one in the world better equipped for it than him. _

Silence followed Tsukishima’s comment, Yachi nervously twirling the barbecue stick between her fingertips, Kuroo clearing his throat and sending Tsukishima a mildly threatening glare. Tsukishima simply shrugged at that, still looking at Kenma for some sort of response. 

There was none. 

It was not until a booming voice that they all knew a little too well called out to them from the entrance of the pub that the four university students looked up, shaking their heads as Bokuto’s presence, loud as ever, made itself known. “Hey hey hey! What’s with the mood over there?”

Akaashi no longer looked ashamed to be walking with Bokuto. Instead, he bowed in apology to the people who frowned at the ruckus that always followed Bokuto. Bokuto, unbothered, sauntered over to the table, waving and smiling occasionally when people seemed to recognize him.

“You all look like somebody died!” Bokuto said, his booming laugh filling the room even over the constant buzz of the izakaya. He reached for a glass of beer immediately, its contents sloshing over as he looked around the table, wrapping an arm around Tsukishima’s shoulders. “I haven’t seen you in months, Tsukki! How’s it going?” 

“Everything is fine, Bokuto-san.” Tsukishima said, sighing, but not pushing Bokuto away. “I see the game went well.” 

“How did you know?” Bokuto gasped, pulling his glass of beer away. It left a mustache of foam above his lip, but no one at the table bothered to tell him. “I thought you two couldn’t make it!”

“You wouldn’t be this loud if you lost.” Tsukishima said plainly. “And no, we weren’t there. My parents came to visit today.”

“What did they say about your bachelor pad?” Kuroo said, one eyebrow raised suggestively.

“Not much. Just that they wish I’d eat less instant ramen.”

“What about you? Why couldn’t you make it?” Kuroo asked Yachi, who seemed awfully distracted by a piece of tamagoyaki.

“Oh! I went to a club event with some senpais.” Yachi hiccuped. “I left early, though. I know I’d get too drunk if I spent all night there.”

“That explains why you’re already drunk, then.” Kuroo commented. “You should hold off now, though, if you didn’t want to get too drunk.”

“Yeah, I’ll stop with this.” Yachi nodded, hand wrapped around her half-drunk beer. She seemed to suddenly remember something, though, gasping and turning abruptly to Bokuto, who sat across from her. “Ah! Bokuto-san, I wanted to ask to make sure-- does Hinata have people helping him with his shoulder? He’ll be in trouble if he doesn’t take good care of it…”

“Ah, that?” Bokuto said, after downing his beer in one go. He waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Kageyama was on it as soon as we were off the court. He’s even bossier about it than the Coach is. He even yelled at one of the second years when he almost pushed Hinata in the locker room.”

“Who was it? Uemura?” Akaashi asked, calling a server over to order another round of tamagoyaki.

“Nah. Toyonaga. He didn’t like Kageyama to begin with.” Bokuto said, picking at some grilled mackerel with his chopsticks. 

“Can’t blame him. I’d be pissed too if I was benched to make room for a freshman. Only someone like Suga-chan would still have a friendly relationship with Kageyama after something like that.” Kuroo said, just as his and Kenma’s food arrived. He shook his head, then, clicking his tongue as he dug his chopsticks into his food. “Other setters just seem to hate that guy.”

This was not a jab at Kenma, he knew, but he felt targeted by the comment anyway. Kuroo was right. It was all too easy to dislike someone so singularly talented-- and even more irritating to be playing opposite him. Every perfect toss was a reminder that his skill level was miles above his peers, and his seamless synergy with Hinata was the cherry on top. 

He was, quite simply, the better setter. And he always would be.

Without a word, Kenma poured himself a glass of beer. The conversation drifted, then, and for the rest of the night, the group avoided talking about Hinata, though Kenma knew it was only due to Akaashi nudging the topic away anytime they got too close. And Kenma felt grateful for it. 

So Kenma drank, and laughed, and felt a little lighter than before. He found that it was easier to ignore nagging thoughts and feelings when he was inebriated.

And so he drank, and drank, and drank.

* * *

He woke up the next morning with a distinct dullness that could only be attributed to a hangover ringing inside his head.

He turned over and blindly searched underneath his pillow for his phone. Squinting sleepily at the screen, he found only a few notifications from a couple games he has recently been occupied with, a message from Mitsuri about the paper they were writing, and several texts from Kuroo, who was likely concerned that he was too hungover to get out of bed and eat something. 

**Kuroo Tetsurou, 8:38am**

_ You’re probably still asleep _

**Kuroo Tetsurou, 8:38am**

_ Idk if you remember, but you drank a lot last night _

**Kuroo Tetsurou, 8:38am**

_ Like, a lot a lot _

**Kuroo Tetsurou, 8:39am**

_ Anyway, I’ll drop by at like 11 with some food. You’ll probably still be in bed by then _

**Kuroo Tetsurou, 9:05am**

_ Also… I really am sorry I forced you to go to the game. I thought it was for the best, but I should have listened to you when you said you didn’t want to _

**Kuroo Tetsurou, 9:05am**

_ That’s all I wanted to say. See you later _

Kenma sighed, checking the time.  _ 10:58am _ . Kuroo must already be on his way. He turned again to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling, yet again hearing the familiar sound of rain hitting the door to his balcony. He closed his eyes, thinking of Shouyou’s injured shoulder, and what he would have done if he knew about it. 

If he had hurt his shoulder before nationals, as Tsukishima had mentioned, it must have been soon after Kenma broke up with him. Kenma thought of every article, every video, every news clip he had seen Shouyou in since then. Kenma never noticed. 

It was difficult to process how he felt about it, let alone put it into words. He wished he had known. He wished he could have been there for Shouyou. He hated that he wasn’t-- and yet, he knew that this was the way things had to be. He was no longer part of Shouyou’s life, a choice that he made and sealed the night he broke it off. He was sure about it, still. He had no doubt that it was the right choice. 

_ So why did it still hurt so much? _

There was no clear answer. Only several conflicted thoughts and complicated feelings blurring into each other, making Kenma’s headache worse with each passing moment. He kept his eyes closed, breathing in, pushing his thoughts back into that metaphorical box in the corner of his mind. He would think about it later, he promised. For now, he would focus only on the dull sound of raindrops and the wind splattering against glass and concrete.

Even though at this point he was definitely starting to get sick of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: kenma and hinata have an awkward car conversation


End file.
